When You Disappeared
by GracePres
Summary: After Toby's death, many of his old (or new) friends (or more than friends) tell about their relationship with him, what he meant to them, and just the kind of person he was.
1. Emma

_**Emma**_

I liked Toby.

Like a lot.

He was some sort of magic that I couldn't describe really, but I liked it.

We were never anything real. Just a little maybe-possibility at nighttime when LA was lit up and we weren't thinking straight. Night turned to day and the magical ways of the dark starry sky turned to a light blue and the Sun shone and our minds cleared. He was 29 and I was only 19. My parents would just die if they knew I ever hung out with him, but they never would know. They lived miles and miles away in stupid Mississippi.

"Where you from?" Toby asked me the night I met him after I accidentally let a 'y'all' slip off my tongue.

"Mississippi," I answered, feeling embarrassed, and reached up to put a piece of hair behind my ear like I did when I felt self-conscious, even though it was already tucked securely behind my ear and out of my face.

"I was born there!" he said excitedly, his voice getting louder because we had a topic to discuss.

When he talked to people, he looked right at them with his electric hazel eyes that looked golden in the dark lighting of a bar and made them feel like they were the most important thing in the world. And maybe that's why girls fell so hard for him. God, I know I did.

His eccentric personality was like a magnet. I remember some days—if I ever did see him in the daytime—he would almost tire me out, just talking to him. He'd throw his arms all around as he talked and practically bounce in his place. He walked fast, like he was always in a rush, always busy. Yeah, in the daytime, he was a little much for someone like me. I was much too anxious, got embarrassed too easily to be with a man like him. But at night he was the perfect mix of excitement and charm.

He was always the center of attention at a party. He somehow managed to get around to everyone. He made each and every person feel welcome at his house.

But I did remember one night. A very odd night at this guy named Jed's house. A party I had been dragged to by my friend Melanie. Toby was there—Toby was at every party in Orange County, I swear—being his normal self, standing with two blonde, curvy women. He kissed one; I wanted him to kiss me.

But as I was looking at him then his smile faded, quite obviously, as he was looking straight ahead. It was a look of pure horror. He said something to the blondes, probably excusing himself, and they smiled and waved little prissy goodbyes. I tried looking toward the front, but, being barely 5'2", I couldn't see over all the people. So I just followed him into the hallway, pushing through all the people, getting beer spilled on my favorite sweater in the process.

I just hoped he was okay. I had never seen him not okay. I think I was afraid of seeing someone like him not okay.

I considered Toby and I friends, although he was friends with everyone, I, for some reason, thought I was special. I know now I was just another girl and I guess I'm okay with that. At least I knew some part of him.

He ended up going outside because there really was no other place without people to go.

"Hey Toby," I said sheepishly, walking outside.

Jed's house was overlooking the whole city—a beautiful view. Toby was there, sitting on a bench in front of the shrubs and looking out at all the lights of LA.

He turned his head and gave a slight smile, then said, "Hey," in a quiet voice.

I didn't know his voice could be that quiet.

"Are you okay?" I asked, but that was stupid because everyone always answered with the same word.

"Yeah."

"No, really."

"Just... can you just sit with me?" he said, avoiding my question.

But the way he said it made me smile a bit. He sounded so young, so innocent and his eyes were bigger, almost child-like. I wanted to hold him.

"Sure," I said with a nod and a smile.

That was the first time he kissed me. I don't know why he did, but I guess maybe he just needed a person right then.

I later found out the look of horror was brought on by the one and only Olga Kay. He avoided the woman like the plague but if she ever did catch up with him he just turned to mush right in her hands. She had something about her that broke him like nothing else. And he knew. He knew she didn't love him like he loved her and he knew she only came to him when there was no one else but still he couldn't shake her. She had such a hold on him. I didn't know what it was about her, but I was almost envious of her ability to break his heart with just one look.

I talked to her once too, partly because I was sick of how she treated him, and partly because I really wanted to understand her and how she did it.

"Why can't you just leave him alone?" I asked her while she grabbed herself another beer.

"Oh, honey. Sweetheart. _Baby_. You would never understand. What grade are you in anyway?" she said in a condescending tone that made me sick.

"I'm in college," I said shyly.

"Well Toby's an _adult_, honey. And so am I and I have needs and if those needs are not being met by someone new I have someone old waiting on me too. It's not wrong. It's life. It's his fault he reads too much into sex. He ties too many emotions to it, see. So goodbye, now."

She waved me off and I just turned and walked away from her because there was nothing else to say. Even if there was, I wouldn't be able to get it out. I was speechless.

I was also speechless when I got on Twitter Monday at 11:34 after I woke up (I usually woke up earlier, but I'd had a late night). I saw so many tweets with the hashtag "#riptoby" and, still groggy, I didn't even think much about it except how much I hated "R.I.P.". I always read it just like 'rip'. Someone's dead and you can't even take the time to type out "Rest In Peace". I rolled my blurry eyes.

But the second I sat up in my bed it just hit me. Quickly, I picked my phone back up and went to Twitter.

Toby.

The image of him laying naked in his bed, covers pulled up to his waist, looking at me with those big, child-like eyes, telling me he loved me (of course he didn't mean it-he said it to everyone after he'd had a few), telling me he didn't want me to go, all of that filled my mind.

Toby.

No. It couldn't be him. I was just with him.

But after I scrolled through the stupid, lazily-acronymed hashtag I saw that it was. It was everywhere. I swear I stayed looking at those tweets for hours. When his picture popped up I scrolled by it quickly because I had always hated looking at pictures of people who'd died. It gave me an eerie feeling that I didn't exactly appreciate. I had always been so afraid of ghosts.

But he was famous and they get stuff like that all the time. Maybe it was made up. I called him.

He didn't answer.

I called him again and again and he just never answered.

So I curled up in my covers, not crying because we weren't anything real. Just a maybe-possibility at nighttime. But I did think I would miss the magic he brought with him wherever we went, even if I only got a little piece of it and even if I had to share it with the whole world.

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><p><strong>AN:** This is sort of like a collection of short stories from people who've known him and how they felt about him and just the person that he was. It's mostly in the POV of an OC but there's a lot of people y'all will know in it, just not told by them.

If you like it, please let me know so I'll know to keep going. :)


	2. Mary-Ellen

_**Mary-Ellen**_

I met Toby in kindergarten. We sat across from each other at our table.

On the first day of school, we got to pick out a picture to color from any of the coloring books our teacher had. It was just magical.

My mom had gotten me the biggest box of Crayola crayons they had and it came with this super cool sharpener, made _especially_ for crayons, in the _shape_ of a crayon, with a _face_ on it. It was a glorious thing and everyone was watching me as I opened it up. Toby sat, amazed, and because I thought he was really cute I sat the box right in between us.

"We can share," I told him.

His eyes lit up when I said it and he smiled and I guess that was the start of it all.

I did like Toby in kindergarten and I did like him in first grade and part of second. And he liked me too. He wrote me poems sometimes and he would put them in my cubby. It was all fun and I just thought he was the sweetest boy alive until someone—Reese Watkins—found one of the poems and read them in front of the class. I'd never been that embarrassed in my life (granted I was only seven years old). After that, I didn't talk to Toby much. Instead, I talked to Reese. He was much cooler anyway. Toby did still share his snack with me, though, which was pretty nice.

Toby never really quit liking me. I could be such a bitch to him, but it wouldn't change a thing. In seventh grade, I just got so tired of him talking to me—he was such a dork—that I snapped. We were in PE and he was telling me something about something that happened in his Spanish class. My friends were all watching me and laughing because I, once again, got stuck talking to him. Now I really didn't think he was all that bad, but I guess when someone likes you that much you can't help but hate them.

"Oh my Gosh, Toby, just shut up. No one even cares!" I cut him off and he immediately stopped talking and the smile on his face vanished. "I have said this, like, a million times. I don't like you. I never will. And really no one else does either."

He just stood in front of me for a minute, with wide eyes. I wished the bell would ring, but we had a little while longer. I must have been really loud, because no one was talking. Everyone was watching us.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, then walked away, back into the safety of the boy's locker room.

"That was so mean!" some girl said harshly.

"Bitch," another one mumbled.

"Whatever! Y'all don't get it!" I exclaimed, feeling terrible and knowing what they'd said was very true.

Years later, junior year in high school, we were in Creative Writing and Toby said something that I felt like was directed toward me, even so long after that day.

We were reading a short story and in it the boy gets told no one likes him.

"You know, no matter who you are, if someone tells you _nobody_ likes you, it always hurts," he said almost shyly.

For a moment I felt bad again for what I did so many years before. Maybe he wasn't even thinking about me, but I sure felt like he was.

I dated Duncan Vince from tenth grade all through twelfth. Toby didn't date anyone, though I think he did get close with Abby. She liked him a lot; everyone could tell. She was a cute girl, too, with a blonde bob and big gorgeous blue eyes. She always wore the cutest clothes, too. Honestly, she could do better. But she didn't seem to want to.

Duncan and I were going to different colleges, so, a week before the last day of senior year, we broke up because that's just the way it always goes. Toby and I were TA's for the ninth grade history class and we'd actually been talking a lot all year. He wasn't half bad, actually pretty funny and really sweet. But I thought I was better than him. It was so stupid, but _I thought I was better than him. _That week without Duncan, though, I was a total mess and, really, any guy at all would suffice. So I turned to Toby.

In that history class on the last day of school I asked him to come get something from my car with me. He happily accepted my offer. Once out there, behind a truck where we were shielded from any teachers who might walk outside, I kissed him. I kissed him, just a little peck, just a second, and when I pulled away he just stared, wide-eyed, just like so many years ago, except I hoped it was because he felt good that time.

He shook his head and said, "I love you."

I smiled, reached up and took his glasses off. He didn't look so bad.

"You don't need these," I said, holding them up.

"I… kinda do. Actually, everything's sorta blurry right now."

"You look good, though."

"Oh. Well then I guess I can… feel my way around."

I laughed and slid the glasses back on his face.

"You can just get contacts."

I kissed him again, longer.

"I…I've never kissed anyone. Like, until just now."

I laughed again, but he didn't, so I quit and looked at him seriously.

"Wait. Really? That. That was your first kiss?"

"Yes."

"_What_?"

"I, uh, promised myself you'd be my first kiss."

"Oh. Well, then, you're good at keeping promises."

"I am," he agreed.

That summer we went to the beach and to the city and to the mountains, all with a few of our best friends. I had the best time with him then. I could have sworn I actually fell in love with him, maybe even more than I did with Duncan. And that was so funny because I always told myself I would never be so desperate I would date _Toby Turner_. He was one of the biggest nerds at our school. He was the one you saw about joining the goddamn _board game_ club. But if you looked past that, or if you just didn't care, he was everything. He was like everything all at once and I really liked that.

I found out from Kasey that he died. I didn't know why because she didn't know why, so I had to do some research. It was so easy to find things out about him; he was so famous. It almost made me laugh how famous he was, but because of the circumstances, I didn't laugh.

"Mom, can we go to the park now?" Alyssa whined from behind me, standing with her brother, who also was looking miserable.

"Um, ask your dad if he can take you, please," I told her, in front of the computer, still caught up in what I'd just found out.

"Daddy's at work," Tommy chimed in.

I rolled my eyes, placing a hand on my head.

"No. Not right now, okay? Just go outside."

"But you said—,"

"Go outside, Alyssa!" I snapped because I couldn't handle being a mother right then when I felt just like an eighteen year old girl, like my summer boyfriend had just passed away.

She frowned and reluctantly turned to the sliding glass door, holding Tommy's hand as she walked out, her brown pigtails bouncing.

I turned back to the computer and clicked on a picture of Toby. He was so handsome. His hair was still just as messy but it somehow looked just perfect on him. And he was so fit. I smiled a little at that picture. It was so crazy how things worked.

I didn't cry. At least not then, because in that picture he was smiling and I believed that smile. I believed in it wholeheartedly. He was happy then and I just hoped he was happy now, too, wherever he was. Wherever you go when you disappear.

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><p>AN: If you enjoyed this, please review/follow/favorite or something so I'll know to keep going! Thanks for reading

Also, Happy Halloween :)


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